


You in the End

by SailorBryant



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, let's have fun with alternate realities!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:05:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorBryant/pseuds/SailorBryant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You will wish you had never been born,” the General had told him.</p><p>Not fucking likely, Jim thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You in the End

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing, please be gentle.

“It is for the benefit of all-”

“Sorry buddy, but you picked the worst possible person in the galaxy for your 'genocide for the greater good' argument,” Jim told him, each word laced with enough venom that the General paused in his attempts to escape.

“Ah yes,” he said, his condescending tone sent a pool of fresh anger into the pit of Jim's stomach.  “I forget you were a survivor of Taurus IV.  However, this is not an equivalent comparison you are making, Captain Kirk.  General Kodos murdered innocents based on assumptions and delusions of-”

“Sounds pretty fucking equivalent to me.”

“You understand nothing of our race! We do not make assumptions. We are the Watchers. We _know._ And the Haddizians are not innocent. They are a bloodthirsty race who has left countless corpses in their wake, and we have seen what they will do in the future. You would condemn your entire galaxy to death if you allow them-”

“There's no if to it, _sir_ ,” he said with air of finality. “My crew is disabling your weapons as we speak. I was sent here to keep your attention while they shut down your whole ship.  They should be here any moment to arrest you.” He gave the General a smirk, though Kirk was currently sitting on Calibri's back, and the general could see nothing more than the floor and the wall in front of him.

“The Federation does not abide genocide. And even if we did, it wouldn't be because of some hoodoo mystic crap you guys claim lets you see into the future.”

“You are a fool,” he sneered. “To let your personal-”

“It is my personal experience that lets me know what type of things people like you are capable of.  It's why I knew I had to stop you.”

“I will make you pay, Jim Kirk,” he finally said, almost in a whisper. “You will wish you had never come to Volkodan.  I will make you wish you had never been born.”

Kirk lifted his arms up in a shrug, palms in the air, and his weariness from the exchange showing. “Tell it the judge, pal.”

There was a loud bang against the door, and Kirk and Kharvo both jerked towards it.  It was followed by the whirling and buzzing on advanced machinery, more banging, and loud cursing in a distinct Scottish accent that warmed Kirk's whole body. The door slid open to reveal a Vulcan in a Starfleet science uniform, his phaser drawn and pointed directly at them.

“Spock!” Jim cheered. A crew of red shirted security offices spilled in around Spock, phasers out, circling every inch of the empty engineering room.

His first officer holstered his weapon and made his way directly in front of the captain.

“What took you so long?” Jim said with a grin. “If you wanted to be captain that bad, all you had to do was ask.”

Spock's only response was his trademark raised eyebrow. “It is good to see you as well, Captain,” he simply replied.  Only someone who knew him very well, and had studied his expressions closely could see the quirk of his lips.  Fortunately, Jim fell into both of those categories.

“Nice to see you too, you green blooded bastard.”

“Captain, as I have explained to the doctor many times my parents were both-”

“I get it, I get it, Spock.  Ha Ha. Now help me the hell up.” Spock hesitated for a second, before his eyes flashed to Jim's knee that did seem to be twisted at an odd angle. “I'm fine. Barely feel it,” he lied.

Spock's gaze met his, and held it for a long second. “Of course, Captain.” And this time, Jim truly couldn't read Spock's expression.

He was still trying to pin point the shift in his commander’s expression that he jumped when he found a hand in his face.  Jim looked up at Spock, then at Spock's out reached hand, then back at Spock.

Spock merely looked expectantly at him. “Come, Captain, we must get you the medical bay. Doctor McCoy is expecting you.”

A grin that was far too inappropriate for the situation he found himself in broke across his face.  He reached out and grasped his friends hand tightly, pulling himself up carefully.

“Oh god,” he whined, though it was tempered by the mad grin across his face. “Bones is gonna kill me.”

\--

“Hey Bones,” Kirk greeted cheerfully, his arm slung around Spock shoulders' as the Vulcan practically carried him into Sickbay.

“Don't you ‘Hey Bones’ me, you stupid bastard!” Bones stomped over to them, waving a hypno in his hand like knife, and orderly running behind him with a bag of medical supplies. “I'm really going to murder you this time. I'm seriously going to do it.”

Spock tensed underneath Kirk's arm. “Doctor, I feel it would be paradoxical to your Hippocratic oath to cause harm to your-”

“Shut the hell up Spock, and put him down.”  Kirk shot Spock a conspiratorial grin as he was lead over the nearest bed.  He was merely given a curious tilt of an eyebrow in return.

Once Jim was settled on the bed, and gave a little mental sigh at the loss of contract from his first officer, Bones was on him, shooing Spock out of the way.

“Dammit all to hell, Jim. Do you have a freaking death wish?” Jim shrugged his shoulders.

“What can I say? When people meet me, they just wanna kill me,” he let a sly grin spread across the corner of his mouth, “or fuck me.” He ended the latter part of his sentence with a wink to Nurse Chapel, who gave him a dramatically exaggerated eye roll.

“I know which one of those I am,” Bones deadpanned.

Kirk slapped a hand to his chest. “Baby, I’m wounded. You’ve wounded me.”

“No, you’ve wounded your damn self! Running around like a fool trying to put the both of us in an early grave!” He punctuated his sentence with a hypo to Jim’s neck.

The Captain yelped, but instantly began to feel the pain from his various bruises and cuts start to fade and the familiar wave of pain killers buzzed through his system.  Kirk turned to grin in Spock’s general direction.  “Don’t let that gruff exterior fool you, he really does care.”

Bones’ reply was another hypno to the neck that was far rougher than need be.  Kirk screeched, swatting his hands at the doctor.

“I see,” Spock replied. Jim’s grin nearly burst off his face.

“Don’t you have a ship to run?” Bones growled at the Vulcan, waving at Chapel to gather more things with which to hurt Jim with.

Spock straightened up, trying to hide the brief playfullness that had sprung up between the two of them. Jim was sad to see it go. “I shall contact the Volkodan ambassador and inform him we have the General in custody.”

“We should throw him out the air lock,” Jim quipped

The side of Spock’s mouth twitched slightly, and Jim couldn't help the familiar warmth that pooled in his stomach. “Starfleet will want us to discuss terms.” Jim sighed, realizing it was business time. “It would be most logical to use the General as a tool in finding a settlement to the Volkodian’s-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jim interrupted grumpily. His face hardened, finally falling back into Captain mode. “Tell the ambassador we will beam him and the Elders up to the ship, where we will discuss their options.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Jim gave a sideways glance to Bones who was checking him over with the tricorder, grumbling to himself, waiting until the ships business was over so he could berate his captain some more.

“Don’t beam them up until I get there.”

“Oh hell no!” Bones exclaimed. “You’re staying right the hell here until I say you can leave, not running around arguing with the bastards who tried to-“

“I shall await your arrival, Captain,” Spock interrupted, before turning on his heel and leaving.

“And don’t you encourage him!” Bones screamed at the first officers retreating back.

“I don’t think he heard you, Bones,” Jim quipped.

The doctor whipped his head around to glare at Jim. “I’m going to kill you both.”

“You say that a lot for a man whose job is to keep people alive,” Jim observed.  He was rewarded with another hypno to the neck.

“Dammit, Bones! That hurts!”

\---

The meeting with the Volkodian ambassador and the council of elders had not been very pleasant.  The elders claimed that the General was working alone, without the knowledge of The Council.

The worst part is that they still believed they could tell the future, though they refused to allow any insight into their abilities.  It took hours of diplomatic double speak that always managed to wear Jim out.  Luckily for the both of them, Spock never tired of that sort of lingustic gymnastics, and took over for Jim whenever he started looking like he was going to snap and say something he actually meant.

It took only half a day and one heartfelt speech from Jim, and they had finally agreed to allow Federation ambassadors to be stationed on their planet to discuss their clairvoyantly-propagated meddling with other species.  However, they’d allowed the general to remain on the planet to be handled as The Council saw fit.  Jim wasn’t too happy about that, but if it prevented any more genocides who was he to argue.

“Lieutenant Uhura, any word yet from Starfleet about the Varharian ambassador.”

Uhura spun in her chair to face him. “Yes, Captain.  They were unaware how long the fallout from Volkodan may be, so they reassigned the mission to the _Normandy._ ”

“No new mission?”

“No, sir. We are on standby.”

“So, what you're saying is that we're just flying around with our hands down our pants?”

Uruha's lips twitched. Chekov had no such control and let out a surprised laugh, before quickly covering his mouth in embarrassment.  Jim grinned wide.

“Spock,” he barked, not even looking at the Vulcan. “How far are we from Eden IV?”  Everyone turned their heads to look towards the captain with surprise and hope on their faces.

Eden IV was located on the planet Fratelli. The Fratellians, surprisingly, had made contact with a Federation ship on their very first space voyage and had been overjoyed at the thought of joining in.  Luckily enough, their planet was not only a beautiful paradise, but was absolutely saturated in a kaleidoscope of minerals that had the Federation salivating.

Also, luckily for the Federation, the one and only driving force behind the Fratellian's every action was their deep, culturally ingrained sense of greed. For the right price, they turned over half of their planet into nothing but mines that ran day in and day out.  However, realizing that more and more people were visiting their planet for something more than the mines, they kept the other half of their paradise in pristine condition, and turned themselves into the most popular pleasure planet on their side of the galaxy.  It was littered with casinos, brothels, concerts that featured talent from all across the galaxy, and arenas that featured everything from mundane children's sports to games that ended with bodies being drug out.

And Eden IV was the capital city.

“Approximately two days, seven hours, and thirteen minutes, Captain.”

' _Approximately_ ,' Jim mouthed at Uhura, who turned to hide a smile.

“I think we've built up some shore leave, don't you commander?” Spock merely gave him an upturned eyebrow.

Cheers erupted on the bridge. “Chekov, why don't you plot us the quickest course towards Eden IV. Sulu, as soon as he’s done, head us out.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Aye, Keptin.”

“Uhura, put in a request for shore leave on Eden IV.” He gave her a wink. “And when they respond, pretend like we aren't already half way there.”

She shook her head at him, but there was a certain bounce to her fingers as they splayed across the console.

The last few months had been rough.  They had been doing back to back missions for three straight months, and their shore leave to Starbase 8 had been canceled when a Klingon ship had attacked a nearby colony.  After that, there was a first contact mission where Spock had nearly died, and had his heart been located six inches higher he would have.

He could still see it, clear as day. Both of the running through the forest, communicator in his hand, frantically trying to contact the Enterprise. Spock was calm and focused as he made them a path through the rough brush, before there was the sound of laser fire, and Spock came to a sudden stop.  Jim screamed at him to keep moving, but his first officer stayed calmly in place, before dropping to his knees, and finally collapsing on his side. That's when Jim saw the blood.

His first officer was barely out the med bay when they had flown straight into the Volkodan mess. The crew needed a little break.

Hell, Jim needed a break.

Jim loved the Enterprise.  He loved his crew, and he loved being the Captain of the best damn ship in the fleet. But sometimes he loses people, good people that he sent to their deaths. And sometimes Starfleet forces him to make decisions that he knows are going to lead to people’s death in the future.

Sometimes he has to sit across the table and negotiate with people who were ready to exterminate an entire species because they thought they could see the future.

It's on those days he wonders if maybe he should have just stayed on his motorcycle, put the half assembled carcass of the Enterprise in his rear view and drove on until Pike's challenge stopped ringing in his ears.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to meet Spock's almost concerned gaze.  Kirk gave him a wink.

There was no mistaking it, Spock looked startled.  Not Vulcan 'hiding it but something seeps through' startled, but straight up human startled.  The Vulcan ducked his head back to his station, and attempted to resume his work.  However, Jim noticed a slight fumble to his actions that had not been there before.

Jim grinned.

**..Four Days Later..**

Immediately after the Enterprise's departure, General Kharvo was placed in prison.  It wasn't very long, as he knew it wouldn't be, before his former childhood friend, and current head of the Council for Cardass gave him a visit.

 _“Traitor,”_ Kharvo hissed at him.

“Please, friend, you cannot believe that.”

“You bow down to these strangers. You have let an entire race of murderers free to destroy everything in their path. This is not the way of our race, this is not how things are done.”

“This is how they are done now, Kharvo.”

His people had become weak.  His great grandfather had once butchered an entire class of Andorian children, who were destined to create a weapon that would led to the destruction of thousands of people. Then, the Council had applauded him.  Kharvo had tried to save an entire galaxy, and he was sitting in a cell as if he were an animal.

 _Weak_.

The ambassador's eyes darted around the brutish design of the cell, and his eyes softened.

“I am sorry for the condition of your-” he paused, _“_ accommodations, General _._  Once the preparations are finished you will be placed under protection at your home.  It will be far more comfortable.”

“I prefer my current accommodations,” he snapped. The ambassador regarded him wearily. “I am not like the council, spoiled by the pampering of the Federation's luxuries.”

He sighed. “General, you must understand. We cannot continue on as we have before. Our presence is known to the rest of the Galaxy, for better or worse. We must adapt or we will find ourselves fighting a never ending war with all the systems of the Federation.”

“Anokio!” The General roared, standing up. “Do not let the sweet nothings the Federations snakes have slithered in your ear infect you. You are surrendering our ways-”

“We are not surrendering anything!” The ambassador yelled, making a slashing motion with his hand. “We are _evolving._ Don't you understand, the Federation has began talks with Haddix.  There are segments of their government who are troubled at the direction their people are moving in, and upon hearing of our predictions they are very open to discussing the movement for peace.  This could all end with negotiations, instead of death.”

Kharvo closed his eyes. He collapsed back against the bench.

“You want to use his ways, and now you even use his words.”

They both know who the general meant by he.

“He is a child,” he seethed. “A presumptuous, arrogant child, who would destroy innocent lives for his own limited grasp of morals.”

“He is not without fault, General, but do you not understand?  You and I, old friend, and the Federation; we all want the same thing. We all want peace.” He smiled, holding his arms out wide. “Does it matter what means we use to achieve it?”

Kharvo took in the honest look in his friend's face, and for a moment he let himself wonder.  But his eyes couldn't help but sweep up to the ornate jewelry that laced his ears, and neck, and wrists.  The bright and lavish robes that swept the floor, and spoke of the elegance of the Council, and the Federation. “I don’t believe, _ambassador_ , that we do want the same thing.”

The ambassador's smile grew cold. “No. No, it appears we do not.” With a swirl of his cloak, he was gone, leaving the General alone.

Fortunately for Kharvo, he was never truly alone.

It only took an hour for his people to break him out.

**..Eight Hours Later..**

Spock moved briskly through the far too crowded lobby of Eden IV's most popular casino, _The Sanguidan_. He did not know if it was his quick pace or the presence of a Vulcan on a planet whose brochure featured human, Orion, and Andorian women in what appeared to be mid coitois that caused everyone to move quickly out of his way, but Spock appreciated that their actions nonetheless.  He nearly broke out into a run when he finally caught sight of the bar sign, and he stopped just short of knocking a man to the ground before reachin the, but he kept moving. He found his quarry slumped over the bar, with his hand wrapped around a half empty glass.

“Captain.”

Jim sat up immediately, his previous weariness gone without a trace. He raised his arm out, waving at Spock to come over. “Spock! You're here.” He patted the stool beside him, wobbling a little bit on his own stool.  Spock's eyes scanned the room, but he did not move forward.

“Captain, what is wrong? You stated that there was an emergency. I do not-”

“And there is!” he interrupted, exuberantly. “Mr. Spock, when was the last time you went on shore leave or took a personal day? Hell, when was the last time you got off the ship that wasn't to go on a mission?”

“I do not see how that qualifies-”

“You need a break!” Jim shot him a grin, alternating between motioning to the seat beside him, and using it to hold himself up.

A large group of Andorians were trying to group around the bar forcing Spock to move closer to Jim, staring down at him, with his captain's nose almost touching his chest.  He could smell the waves of alcohol rolling off his superior officer; his nose crinkled.

“Captain, this is highly irresponsible.  I am currently the commanding officer of the bridge-”

“Yeah, while the whole ships on shore lea-”

“You led me to believe there was an emergency-”

“I never said there was an emergency, just that you needed to get down here ASAP. You just assum-”

“I left the bridge in the hands of Lieutenant _Adara,”_ he nearly growled out the fellow officer’s name, “to come to your aid under the assumption it was urgently needed, and not to indulge another of your infantile provocations that do not befit man of your station.”

Jim's glazed over eyes held his.

“Aww, were you worried about me, Spock?”

Spock's shoulders tensed.

“Now come on, Mr. Spock.  I'm just trying to be a good friend. You just need to take some time off, enjoy yourself.  It's not good to get overworked.” Spock's unimpressed stare just made him want to push on. “And I know you don't care for him, but Adara's a good kid. He'll be fine.”

“Need I remind you that Lieutenant Adara's miscalculation on Deva Standard led to the capture yourself and Lieutenant Sulu, where both you of you were severely wounded.”

Jim's eyes moved down to the bar, eying his drink carefully. “Yeah, but you saved us.”

 _Like you always do,_ he thought.

“Your wound was nearly fatal.”

Jim's eyes shot up from his drink, and it was his turn to give Spock an unimpressed stare. “I get shot about once a month.  You can hardly blame Adara for that. Besides,” he said in a placating voice, “even if the kid was the worst of the worst, the ship has like four people on it. I'm sure he can handle it.”

“Captain,” Spock attempted.

“Come on, Spock.  Just sit with me a little bit. Hell, we might even get some action. With me as your wingman-” Spock's face went cold. Cold, even for Spock. Without a word, he spun on his heels and left the bar with the swiftness and precision he did everything else.

He slowly slid around in his stool to face the bar, where the woman behind it was staring at him passively.

“Fucked that one up, didn't I?” She shrugged.

He sighed. “Another Malfurian Tildalwave please.” She nodded, and began filling up his glass.

“Won't that be a little rough on your pretty boy metabolism?”

Jim was very proud that years of Starfleet training had lent him the nerves it took to not jump when the voice began right next to his ear. A woman, and he presumed the owner of the voice, slid into the chair beside him. Short, jet black hair that tapered straight into petite lips that were smirking at him.

He glanced at her. “I've had stronger.”

“Like what, rocket fuel?”

“Gotta get that next hit somehow,” he replied with a grin, and she rewarded him with a laugh.

Jim thought, as far as laughs go, it wasn't too bad.  He wouldn't mind hearing it again.

The bartender sat a drink in front of her, and she gave the bartender a mock salute with the air of an obvious regular.

“Come here often?” Jim asked playfully.

“Only at the end of a bad shift.” She looked away for a moment, before smiling at him. “So yeah, pretty often.”

Jim liked where this was going.  He took a drink, his eyes flickering over to the entrance quickly, before taking a sip of his drink, eying the woman over the rim of it.

“So you get in a fight with your boyfriend?”

He choked.

She patted him on the back, laughing merrily at his reaction.

“N-no,” he forced out. “Definitely not my boyfriend.” He hoped that his spectacular failure at swallowing would help account for any color that come to his face. Fortunately, she didn't seem to catch on that his red face was anything more than normal surprise.  If only she could have felt his heart beating out of his chest, or the way his stomach did a somersault when she said 'boyfriend' it would be a different story.

“I know, I know. I heard him call you, Captain,” she reassured him, her eyes dancing.

Jim nodded, answering her silent question.

“So,” she started, “you ever been called Captain in bed?”

He gave her the biggest grin he could muster, happy with the direction they were moving toward, and even happier about what they were moving away from.

“You know, I’ve never even thought about it before,” he lied.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

“I completely agree-” he paused, waving his hand toward her.

“Anita.”

“I completely agree, Anita. Jim, by the way.”

It only took a couple of more drinks, before Jim ended up leading her out of the bar, with his hand on the small of her back, to the nearest hotel.  And if Jim noticed that her slim build, jet black hair, and pale skin reminded him of someone else, he kept it to himself.

 _“You will wish you had never been born,”_ the General had told him.

Not fucking likely, Jim thought.

**..Four hours later..**

Vulka, the capital of Volkodan, was a packed metropolis, surrounded by a sparsely populated countryside.  There were other large cities, but they were nothing like Vulka.  A beautiful city, architecture that swayed and dipped with the beautiful forest around it.  And in the center was The Temple.  The Temple had been named for many gods over the history of their planet, as their fame rose and fell, but in the end the people had simply named it the The Temple. It was no longer the home of a religion, it was part of their home.  

On any day, it was the most congested place on the planet.  Citizens would go to reflect, to take a leisurely stroll and admire the scrolls of paintings that line the walls and tell of the planet’s history.  Parents’ would take their children to play in the sprawling indoor gardens, and to marvel at the trees that stretch up from the floor, through an open gap surrounded by balconies, and reach up to the vaulted glass ceiling.  

What the majority of Volkodians don’t see, however, is what is below The Temple. Which is why it was a bit of trial for General Kharvo to break into, doubly so as he was now a wanted fugitive.

“Stop!” bellowed a Keeper of the Temple.  The Keeper stood tall in front of the large ornate doors, covered from head to toe in prodigious blue and white robes that looked far too big for the tiny man they enveloped.  His coned blue and white hat sat precariously upon his head, and a large piece of fabric covered his chest with the symbol of the Volkodian royal family.

“You cannot enter without proper-” The man standing the closest to Kharvo’s right silenced the man with one shot.  Kharvo’s team quickly swarmed over the man, pulling open the doors and spreading out into the corridor behind it.

“How many more?” A man to Kharvo’s left asked.

“Approximately fifty more, plus drones.  Also, it will only take minues before Anokio arrives with his reinforcements.

The man to his right, the one who had shot the guard, gave him a crooked grin. “That all?”

“Silence Makovo.” Makovo, his second in command, winked at him, before plunging ahead to lead the small group.  

It only took minutes before they found themselves at the gates that held the entryway to the true center of The Temple.  Makoto was the first to enter, and when Kharvo entered seconds later Makoto was still standing in awe of the sight before him.

“Have you never seen the Soul of The Temple before, brother?”

Makoto simply shook his head.

“Ah. I remember the first time I saw it as well. It can be,” he paused, “overwhelming.” Makoto nodded, before finally shaking it off and shouting for his men to guard the door, knocking most of them out of their stupor as well.  

“Well hold the door for you general, while you get to work.”

“Thank you, brother. You will be remembered for all time a hero to your people and to the world.”

Makoto smirked  “No. I won’t, will I?”

Kharvo gave him a sad smile, the first one he’d made since he’d met James T. Kirk, and turned towards the The Soul of The Temple. Makoto was right. If Kharvo succeeded, none of them would be remembered at all.

It was a colossal cavern that stretched infinitely in each direction.  There was a long stretch of land bridge that ended in a podium surrounded by the emptiness of the cavern on every side; a bottomless pit below and a never ending sky above.  However, the empty space was completely filled with bright clouds of waspy tendrils the color of seaglass. Kharvo made his way to the center of the platform.  

The General reached his long webbed fingers out, the light shining off his emerald green skin,  straight into the center of the tendrils.  He felt the tug of all of space and time begin to pull at his consciousness, attempting to drag him out into everything and nothingness, and he resisted as he’d been taught as a child. He pushed the visions of the past and the future from his mind and concentrated solely on one existence.  

_James T. Kirk_

The cloud slithered around his hand, pulsing and flowing, until he felt a long tendril slide into his hand.  He clasped it tightly, feeling it solidify into a sturdy vine. Scenes slid past his eyes with a blurry overlay that gave them the feel of his own memories, and not the life of a stranger that he hated.  

Kharvo heard his men shouting and screaming behind him; heard his men dying for him, and he continued on. He felt himself reach the beginning of the memories, the spark that began the life of James Kirk, and he pulled at it with all his might.

Then he knew no more.  

**..One Second Later..**

Jim jerked awake, sitting straight up on the small bed.  The room spun. He fell back, bouncing lightly, and let out a long groan.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Who let me go ten rounds with a Gorn?”

He slowly opened his eyes and immediately shut them.  Trying again, he lifted a hand up to shield him from the harsh light, and found himself staring straight into the eyes of a cleaning android.

“I apologize, sir.  I believed this room to be empty. I can return at a more appropriate time.”

He waved her off. “It's fine, it's fine. I’ll just be a second”

She nodded and began to slowly take apart her cleaning cart.

He tried sitting back up, slowly this time, his arms held out in front of him. “You don't know what time it is, do you?” he groggily asked.

“It is currently seven hours, eighteen minutes, and fifteen seconds Eden Central time.  Would you like to know the Galaxy Standard Time?”

The light seemed less harsh, and he even felt the pounding in his head subside, as the adrenaline kicked into his system on overdrive.  He didn't even acknowledge her as he began frantically looking for his communicator. The Enterprise was set to leave in forty five minutes.

“Fuck!” He leapt out of the bed. Why the hell had no one contacted him? Hastily, he grabbed his shirt off the floor, and threw it on, still groping frantically for his communicator. “Shit, shit, shit!” The robot stared at him openly as he began to tear the room apart.

It only took a few minutes before Jim could finally accept the inevitable. His communicator was gone.

 _That woman,_ Jim thought. _That fucking bitch._ Bones had always warned him that his sleeping around was going to catch up to him, but why did it have to happen today.

He took off at a run.

Spock was going to murder him. No question about it, he was going to murder him.  After the previous night, where he'd offended Spock beyond what seemed a logical possibility, and now he was going to show up late to their departure, hungover, and reeking of sex and booze.  He didn't even want to think about the look he was going to get when he had to ask his first officer to order him a replacement communicator.

The bridge was about to be icy cold for a few weeks. He reached the docking bay in record time, but his sense of triumph was short lived when he realized that his ship was nowhere to be found.  

Gate 4, where left the Enterprise not more than twenty four hours ago, was closed and empty.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the first station attendant he could find; an Andorian with an expressionless face and dead eyes, “but the Enterprise left earlier this morning.”

“On whose orders?” Kirk nearly bellowed at the attendant.

His expression remanded the same.  “I assume, from Starfleet, sir.”

“Listen, I am Captain Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise and I need to know who signed my ship out of this dock, right now.”

The Andorian quickly skipped through his tablet, before turning his dispassionate gaze back to Jim. “You did, sir, at 400 hours this morning.  Thank you and have a pleasant day.”  

The attendant had made his way out of Jim’s sight, before he could even make an attempt to process what he’d heard.  Jumping into fight mode, adrenaline sparking through his veins, he took off at a heated pace towards a Starfleet terminal.  

He entered his Starfleet ID, and was less than pleased at what the computer told him.

_ID INCORRECT. ID DOES NOT EXIST. PLEASE REENTER YOUR STARFLEET PERSONNEL ID._

Jim tried again, but with the same result.  Okay.  So whoever was messing with his ship, had somehow had his ID changed. That made sense.  If Jim was able to log in, he could do just about anything from his account. Change the Enterprise's destination, contact anyone from the ship. Anything.

He bit his lip, and quickly entered Spock's ID and code.

It worked.

At least, whoever was impersonating him hadn't been able to compromise Spock as well.  But then again, they probably hadn't realized that Jim and Spock were close enough to access each other accounts.  He quickly wondered if other Captain and XO's were that close, but abandoned the thought for more important things, like who was fucking with him, and how he was going to make them pay.

He pulled up the Enterprise's docking orders from that morning.

Apparently, there had been an emergency communique from Headquarters that had forced the Enterprise to leave three hours early.  An emergency beacon had been sent and once everyone had boarded they had shipped out on the orders of the Captain. It was nothing more than he had already guessed, but that's when he saw the signature.

Underneath the official document signing the Enterprise off of official leave, and back on full time duty, was the signature of the ship's current Captain. _His_ Enterprise's captain.

Something inside Kirk burst open from the inside, and he felt a ringing in his ears, and he was sure that anyone looking at him wouldn't see a person, but a big open gaping wound that led right to his soul. Because, apparently, it wasn't _his_ ship anymore.

The signature read: ' _Captain George Kirk.'_

**..Some Hours Later..**

“So, as you can imagine, I was all, 'What the flying fuck is going on here?'”

The bartender, the same one from the night before, gave him a completely nonplussed look. Jim was glad to see that even in another universe, or reality, or whatever was going on with him, one thing could stay constant.

“I’m assuming I’ve somehow found myself in a parallel universe where good old Dad is still alive and kicking, though I have no idea how I found myself here. So I kept digging,” he told her, ignorant or uncaring that she was completely uninterested at his rambling.

“Apparently, when Mom was about four months pregnant, on board the Kevin mind you, she had a miscarriage.  Her and her doting first officer of a husband took an extended bout of medical leave from the ship on the nearest star base. 'Cause you know, that shit’ll fuck you up.” He chucked humorlessly.

“Which was god damn lucky for them because right after that their ship ran right into a bit of tangle with a nasty son of a bitch of a Romulan.”

Jim made explosion motions with his hand, whispering, “Boom.”

“And everybody dies! Boom, gone. No hero there to save them this time.  No holding them off long enough to escape, and no crashing into the Romulan ship and damaging their weapons systems which would've led them to disappear back into space for a few years and leave everybody the hell alone for a while.

“This Romulan ship starts popping up all over Federation space blowing up every ship and planet in it's path. Instead of the Kevin being a random but tragic incident, it becomes a declaration of war. So there's my-” he chokes for a second.

“So there's George Kirk, who quickly gets a ship on his own.  He uses that old Kirk charm to get the whole gang together. The whole Federation joins together, he opens up communication between them and the Romulans, he-”

“He organized the treaty between the Klingons and the Federation,” the bartender interjects.  

It's the first sentence she has ever spoken to him.

“Yeah,” he replies haughtily. “He got the god damn Klingons.”

She nods before resuming cleaning the cup in her hands.

“And together, they stop Nero.  All their advanced technology just couldn't hold up to this armada, and that was all she wrote for Nero the crazy god damn bastard. Suddenly, George is the Federation's hero.  Mom and him become superstars.  Starfleet builds him a ship right in his backyard, all in his honor, just for him to captain.”

 _My ship,_ Jim can't help but think.

“He's got his wife with him, his chief engineer and his XO.  His chief science officer, the first Vulcan to ever sign up with the Federation mind you.  Famous as all get out.  They just,” he swung his arm around, spilling his drink across the bar, “gallivant around the damn galaxy, living it up on the best damn ship in the universe, like a bunch of damn assholes.” He slams his drink down on the bar, staring down at the bar.

“So I guess you could say-,” he stopped, something caught in his throat. “You could say that the miscarriage-” he stopped again, unable to finish.

“Was the best thing that could have happened to them,” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, miserably.  

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's basically It's A Wonderful Life, Star Trek style. I apologize for grammatical errors, I'm drunk as fuck.


End file.
